Muck and brass
Twll Dun

I daren’t show this to my dad as he sits in his chair at the age of 79, barely able to walk, and gasping for breath (though strangely able to shout at rugby referees, and politicians from all parts of the spectrum).

He was, at one time, the youngest NUM branch secretary in Scotland, and a NACODS delegate until the Frances Colliery in Dysart closed, leaving him to find work above ground. They all knew there were dodgy characters in some corners of the union, and they all knew who they were. I reckon that’s a wound that doesn’t need to be reopened as he approaches his 80th birthday.

But it makes my blood boil.

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